


A Deaf Cry To The Past

by HobblyWobbly



Series: Therefore You and Me [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Knight Questline (Final Fantasy XIV) Spoilers, Hinted Relationships, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mentioned G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Carbuncle, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), WOL is depressed and honestly who can blame him, miqo head pats, yes im making this a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobblyWobbly/pseuds/HobblyWobbly
Summary: Listen to my voice. Listen to our heartbeat. Listen…“I’m sorry.” And Mikta means it. He has always meant it.| set post-heavensward pre-stormblood |
Relationships: Fray Myste & Warrior of Light
Series: Therefore You and Me [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980121
Kudos: 10





	A Deaf Cry To The Past

**Author's Note:**

> ffxiv has gone into maintenance so i hurt my WOL to cope  
> btw i have a twitter now! come swing by and say hi! i post screenshots of mikta along with shitposts and some excerpts to future writings and maybe even some drabbles in the future!  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/H0bblyW0bbly)

_“Here again?”_

His footsteps echo along the long corridor, only stopping once he reaches his destination, looking up at the golden door that blocks his way. Mikta reaches a hand out letting his fingers graze over the surface. His own reflection stares back in crystal framing the door. The tips of his hair have gone grey from the overuse of aether and the color in his right eye is dimming. It was the face of someone who he no longer could recognize.

 _“Mikta...coming here will not change anything…”_ His carbuncle’s voice echoes in his head, faint sparkles coming to his left where she sits. Her head is tilted up at him, black eyes usually so bright and full of life much like her master now dimmed in the sorrow she shares with him. _“I miss him as well, but there is nothing we can do.”_

“So you just want me to give up?!” Mikta shouts. His voice cascades down the walls to the entrance that is shielded by the onslaught of rain outside. “The researchers of NOAH have already begun packing up their camp! Moving on to new sights. Cid says there is nothing we can do right now, and as much as Wedge and Biggs try there is no way our technology can catch up to Allag! What do you want me to do, Carby?!” When he finishes he collapses to the ground, digging his nails into the broken pavement. His carbuncle, Carby, undeterred by his shouting, nudges her way under his arm and onto Mikta’s lap. “I’ve lost Raha, I’ve lost Haurchefant, I’ve lost Papalymo...Who else must I lose before I can find peace?!” He shouts up at the golden door. Only silence answers him. “What... _what if he is dead on the other side of that door?”_

With that realization, the walls crumble.

The tears are stifled at first as he attempts to stuff the pain back down, then overcome by the wave of his emotions, he breaks down entirely, all his defenses washed away by his tears. Throwing his head back, Mikta _screams_ , a rawness to his voice unveiling pain from a still-open wound to the world around him, his cries rattling along the walls. When his lungs begin to hurt he physically falls forward and clutches at his chest. Gasping for air. Lips trembling. Shoulders heaving with emotion. Dark lashes glazed in tears. A hand clumsily clamps around his mouth to muffle the sobs that wracked against his chest. The world turns into a blur. The sound. The taste. The smell. Everything is gone. A buzz has entered his head, turning all thoughts and memories into static. All that was left was that golden door and the endless, swirling oblivion around him.

A hand settles atop his head. Mikta blinks, stray tears cascading down his cheeks. His ears flatten when the hand rubs from side to side, a pressure so light it could just be the wind, but Mikta knows better. When the hand pulls away Mikta looks up, blinking through the tear-filled haze to meet golden eyes. But this gold is comforting. Familiar.

_Listen to my voice. Listen to our heartbeat. Listen…_

“We could still leave, you know.” Fray’s voice surrounds Mikta and envelops him in its warm embrace. He is kneeling there in front of the door. Shadows crawling down his form to stretch across the floor in a dance only they were witness to. “Just the two of us.” His hand stretches out towards him. An invitation long overdue. Mikta finds himself reaching out, fingers gliding over the armor-clad palm, the blackness around him seeping in and consuming his surroundings, slaying the static in his head for good. “These people do not deserve you. We kill their enemies. We fetch their things. We break ourselves for them again and again and _again_ and all they do is _nothing_. Leave, and we are free to do anything.”

“...you know I can’t.” Mikta whispers. The void shatters around him and he is back in the corridor. That same golden door staring him down. Fray’s hand begins to slip from Mikta’s grip. “Please...you know I must stay...”

“So you won’t change your mind then?” Gold eyes slide shut. Almost as he knew this was the response to be had. Fray slowly stands up from the ground with a miffed huff.

“I’m sorry.” And Mikta means it. He has always meant it.

“I understand. I _know_. I know you want to save them all. Just rest.” Fray’s voice is hypnotic. The hand settles back over his head and Mikta leans into it, letting his eyes close. “When you wake up, the pain will become our weapon to fight back against our enemies. For the ones we have yet to save. For ones we have yet to bring back.” He promises. The ghost of his mentor begins to withdraw his hand. Mikta swallows away the lump in his throat and, in new-found desperation, reaches out for Fray with a cry of “don’t!”

But it was already too late. He was gone. Just like everyone else.

Mikta flinches when thunder crashes outside, thrown back into reality, just now realizing how late it has become. Carby perks up from where she had been dozing on his lap seemingly oblivious to all that went down.

_“We should go. Alphinaud is no doubt aware of our absence and questioning the others as to where we have taken off to. I don’t believe Thancred will say, but we may never know and I would rather not get another stern talking-to from Urianger.”_

_But I don’t want to go._ Is what Mikta wants to say. What he does say is nothing. Instead, he gives the carbuncle a silent nod and shakily gets to his feet. As Mikta stands a part of him could imagine Fray standing with him, both staring up at the impassible door and the one who laid behind, sleeping until the world needed him again.

“One day, we will see each other again, G’raha Tia. That I will make sure of.” Mikta promises, a hand settling back over the door, watching as Fray’s hand lays next to his. When he pulls his hand away the ghost is gone once more, a familiar warmth blooming in his chest. He sighs. Only time will tell if that promise will come to see the light or not. Scrubbing away the evidence of his crying, Mikta turns and begins walking back the way he came, his footsteps echoing throughout the corridor until he was gone leaving the cave and the golden door behind, the ghost of his presence the only thing left.


End file.
